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Brittney stumbled out of the house, the music still thumping in the background as she made her way down the street. Her red silk dress clung to her body, and the taste of red wine lingered on her lips. Tina called out after her, “Brit, where are you going?” But Brittney barely looked back, waving her off with a lazy hand.
“I’ll be fine, just need some air!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice slurred. She wasn’t sure why she left the party, but her feet carried her on the familiar path to Maxxine’s dorm, almost like she was on autopilot.
When she reached Maxxine’s door, she hesitated momentarily before knocking. The door swung open, and there was Maxxine, her expression calm and composed as always.
I open the door, it's you
You came running, I see you're still trembling
Hot lips, hot hands
In the semi-darkness, you're all shining
“You again?” Maxxine teased lightly, though there was a softness in her eyes. Brittney was glowing.
Brittney didn’t reply. She stood there, her head slightly lowered, but her eyes were locked on Maxxine as if she were trying to figure out why she was here in the first place.
Maxxine noticed the uncertainty in Brittney’s eyes and gave her a small, understanding smile before stepping to the side. Brittney brushed past her, the warmth of her body momentarily lingering in the space between them as she moved into the room.
Brittney felt the tension in her shoulders ease just a little as she moved to the bed and sat down, letting out a small sigh of relief.
Maxxine handed her a glass of water, standing in front of her. “Drink this,” she said, her tone gentle but firm.
You reach out with a slow movement
And you look through the glass
You wave in the rhythm of twilight
You stretch like a cat
She took the glass, her eyes fixed on Maxxine’s. She drank the water slowly, never breaking eye contact, before setting the glass down on the nightstand. She then stood up, swaying slightly as if still moving to the rhythm of the music from the party.
“You’re still in party mode,” Maxxine observed with a small smile.
Brittney grinned softly, “Maybe,” she said, then her gaze softened. “Or maybe I just wanted to see you.”
She took a step closer to Maxxine, then another, until she was standing right in front of her. Without a word, Brittney’s fingers slipped into Maxxine’s hair, pulling her close. She leaned back, gently tugging Maxxine with her onto the bed.
They fell together, Maxxine pinning Brittney down softly, her eyes searching Brittney’s for any sign of hesitation.
I touch you, and then you
Close your black eyes
You wake up, you're all shining again
The rose of the night shines
You leave, but you leave behind
A trace of lipstick on the glass
It doesn't matter that she'll come
She'll ask again
Brittney then half-closed her eyes, pulling Maxxine down into a kiss. Her hands roamed over Maxxine’s back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. She shifted, sliding her leg between Maxxine’s, her body stretching out like a cat.
I touch her and she closes her eyes, she shifts, moves around.
Maxxine’s thoughts drifted, feeling Brittney’s lips move against hers. She could sense the urgency in Brittney’s touch, the way her body responded, as if she was burning alive.
The moonlight sifted through the window, making Brittney look almost ethereal. And for a split second, Maxxine thought she looked like a goddess lying there beneath her.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Maxxine whispered, pulling back just enough to look into Brittney’s eyes.
Brittney smiled before closing her eyes again, but there was a hint of sadness in her voice . “Only when I’m with you.”
Maxxine leaned down, kissing her softly. “You’re always beautiful,” she murmured against her lips.
Wake up, you shine all over again
The rose of the night shines
You leave, but you leave behind
A trace of lipstick on the glass
It doesn't matter that she'll come
She'll ask again
Whose that lipstick on the glass?
As the first rays of sunlight began to enter the room, Brittney stirred, looking like a gleaming rose of the night. She slowly pulled away, her movements careful, almost unwilling. Maxxine watched her, knowing what was coming next. Brittney always left before the sun was fully up, slipping away like she had somewhere else to be.
Brittney sat up, adjusting her dress and not saying anything as she turned towards the door. Maxxine reached out, catching her hand. “You don’t have to go,” she said softly.
Brittney looked down at their intertwined hands, then back up at Maxxine, her eyes conflicted. “You know I do,” she whispered back.
Maxxine sighed but let her go, watching as she moved towards the door. Her hand lingered on the doorknob for just a moment. But before she left, Brittney’s eyes caught sight of the glass on the nightstand, the lipstick mark vivid against the clear glass. She frowned, feeling an unexpected pang of jealousy twist in her chest.
“Who’s that lipstick on the glass?” she asked, her voice a little sharper than she intended, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked back at Maxxine.
Maxxine blinked, a bit surprised by the question’s tone, but smiled softly. Brittney asked that question every time she came around after a night out, always wearing a different shade of lipstick, never recognizing the mark she had left behind just hours ago.
“It’s yours,” Maxxine replied gently.
Brittney stared at the glass, her frown deepening as she tried to remember. But the memory was fuzzy, lost in the haze of the night. Eventually, she just shrugged and turned away, the moment of jealousy fading as quickly as it had come. She slipped out the door without another word.
Maxxine sighed softly as she heard the door click shut. She got up and walked to the nightstand, picking up the glass Brittney had left behind. The lipstick stain was still fresh, a vivid red against the clear glass.
She rinsed the glass out , but she couldn’t bring herself to wipe away the lipstick mark. She placed the glass back on the shelf, next to the other glasses stained with Brittney’s lipstick marks.
She knew Brittney would come back, just like she always does. And Maxxine would be there, ready to welcome her back into her arms, into the warmth of her bed, into the cycle they couldn’t seem to break.
You leave, but you leave behind
A trace of lipstick on the glass
It doesn't matter that she'll come
She'll ask again
Whose that lipstick on the glass?
Whose that lipstick?